Post by Arctura on Jul 15, 2014 19:02:09 GMT
AU ficlet set sometime in season 1 of Merlin.
Eyes Without Speaking Confess
He has been with Arthur six months. He’s careless, and he gets caught with the book. The sentence for sorcery is death, and everyone knows that. Uther passes judgement without hesitation. Not for Merlin’s stammered rationalisation, and not for Arthur’s blank, betrayed expression.
Gwen visits, and Gaius, and even Morgana. Merlin denies their offers of help. If he is to die, he will not take them with him. At the end, he is calm. This too, must be destiny, for there is nothing he can do about it.
When they let him speak, Merlin says, “I was given these gifts for a reason. I was to ensure Arthur succeeded you and that he lived to be the king he’s supposed to be. Without me, he’ll be killed.”
“Is that a threat?” Uther bites.
“A prediction.”
Merlin had wondered, before, whether he should have listened to the Dragon. A great beast like that, bound and imprisoned, who should have no love of the family keeping him that way. Not once during the trial has Merlin mentioned the Dragon, for fear they would take it as further confirmation that he was mad, not to be trusted. So he will not tell them now; he will keep this small secret. Let them wonder, after, how he knew what would happen.
“You are a traitor,” Uther says. “You have wormed your way into the royal household so you could murder my heir.”
“If I wanted Arthur dead, he would be dead!” The candles flicker, the tapestries lift. Merlin says, “All I did, all I have ever done, is keep him safe. I have clothed him, I have poured his wine, I have sharpened his weapons. If I wanted him dead, he would be dead.”
Uther rises to his feet, walking over the flagstones to stand only a few paces away from Merlin. “If you are so great, sorcerer, why do you stand there? Why don’t you free yourself?”
Merlin pulls at the chains on his wrists and ankles, demonstrating their strength. Then he looks at Arthur, standing against the far wall. He nods his head, and Uther looks. Everyone looks. Merlin stirs the sword on Arthur’s belt, pulling lightly at the hilt. He gets it halfway out, while Arthur’s face pales, watching Merlin in fear. Merlin shrugs, making the chains clink. “I could kill him, and the first few guards. But then one of them would kill me, and Arthur would still be dead.” Merlin drops his hold on the sword. “So.”
Uther’s fury is terrible, but it changes nothing. Merlin is dragged away, and tied in the middle of the pyre. Torches are lit, and carried. The smoke stings his nose, and the fire creeps ever closer.
Merlin carries a breath of air to Arthur’s ear. “Watch your back,” he says. “I can’t do it for you.”
The flames hurt, but Arthur is there, and Merlin does not remember him attending an execution before.
